


To mourn the loss of innocence

by show_me_kindness_beauty_truth



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Changing POVs, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Civilian Kills | Not Even Once, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Game(s), Rating May Change, also obvious canon divergencies regarding the fact that the canon ship never happened lmao, canon divergence - mary lives yay, ichabod is a smart bean and not incompetent despite what others may think, jonathan always tries to help everyone and has lots of regrets, other character tags to be added as the story progresses, the prologue is not post game yet though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/show_me_kindness_beauty_truth/pseuds/show_me_kindness_beauty_truth
Summary: Finally, a silver lining showed itself as the epidemic was over at last. London had survived the Spanish Influenza - yet the fear and scars it left behind remained, and now, it was up to the citizens to pick up the pieces of their lives.They all had losses to mourn.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [The continuing adventures of Ichabod Throgmorton, vampire hunter extraordinaire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816717/chapters/36819333) by [CogOfAlderHollow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CogOfAlderHollow/pseuds/CogOfAlderHollow) is partly what motivated me to actually write a fic for this ship, so i would definitely recommend to check it out because it's an absolutely lovely read! :)

He pushed open the iron gate leading to the Lime House dock. 

This was the first time he returned to the area since the dreadful events in Southwark; since the passing of his poor Mary, and his only trail had led him straight to the Turquoise Turtle at the end of the street. 

The night was cooler today; the fog hanging lower on the cobbled paving, adding an impenetrable veil to the darkness. It was not like the chill could bother him anymore, and neither could the gloom, but breath ought to be visible in the cold air. It was something he had to keep in mind when he inevitably ran into someone, given that he technically didn’t breathe anymore.  
For now, his objective was to track down Sean Hampton. And he needed people who could tell him where to start. 

Continuing on, the first thing his keen senses picked up on were the two voices carrying over, even before he could hear the soft, rhythmic thumps of two pulses. The faint smell of blood sweetened a gentle breeze once he got close enough to make out words.  
“Mark my words, Miss. These murders are the work of a vampire”, a male voice exclaimed.  
“A Vampire! Whatever do you mean?”  
Jonathan immediately recognized the second voice as belonging to the barmaid. She hadn’t given him her name yet.  
“I’m a tracker of these creatures. A vampire hunter!” He raised an eyebrow at that. Had Priwen moved further into this district?  
“You’d best be off to your hunting then, for if the Sewer Dog is back, and huntin’ all these poor folk… he needs a catchin’.” Jonathan could hear the fear in her voice, no matter how bravely she tried to conceal it.  
He slowed his pace as he advanced closer. And being able to make out their forms against the haze, as well as the lump lying to their feet, he stopped to observe. 

The barmaid had retold the tale he had already heard a few nights ago.  
“Teeth, claws, murders by night?”, the man next to her summed up neatly, gallantly taking a step towards her. “Your Sewer Dog is my business. He’s the kind of prey I hunt, milady.”  
Jonathan couldn’t make out a uniform. Perhaps he wasn’t with Priwen.  
Perhaps that meant Jonathan could approach without a stake to the heart. 

The barmaid turned to return to her work, and Jonathan moved to cross the distance.  
He could already tell not a drop of blood was left in the body – this was definitely the work of a vampire. The Gentleman was right about that much, whoever he might be.  
“Good evening, Sir”, the other almost cheerfully greeted his approach, “have you witnessed any suspicious activity or strange events recently?”  
Whatever kind of hunter he may be, Jonathan already preferred him to Priwen. 

“And what do you define as a strange event?”, he returned the questioning. “More to the point, who are you?”  
“My name is Ichabod Throgmorton, vampire hunter extraordinaire, and warden of the east end.” The introduction was delivered with charming grandeur, and a noticeable roll of the r clanged at his last name.  
“A vampire hunter? Really?”  
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m just another lunatic, howling at the moon. But I’m not. The bloodsuckers exist, and they’re close.” His cheerful demeanor hadn’t changed, but Jonathan could pick up on an underlying trace of petulance. As might be to be expected, if you are constantly met with skepticism the way he seemed to be used to; reasonable though it may be.  
“Mister Throgmorton, I’m Doctor Jonathan Reid, and I’m here to investigate the epidemic”, he introduced himself now, his line familiar as if he had said it a thousand times before. Truthfully, it felt like he had. “I would like to hear more about these – vampires you’re hunting”, there was a slight hesitation, as he stopped himself, lest he accidentally slipped the term Ekon instead.  
“A man of science? Well, I’ll be glad to enlighten you”, Mister Throgmorton declared, and Jonathan couldn’t quite keep the corners of his lips from twitching into a smirk for a moment.  
_Yes, do tell._  
“Did you hear about what happened to Jack Gillingham? Poor boy… it’s a shame I wasn’t around to protect him”, he continued, and there was sincere conviction behind his words. Jonathan remembered happening upon his body along his way; executed by a gun, rather than ripped apart by fangs.  
“It’s impossible to protect everyone. The violence seems endemic in this part of town.”  
“But it’s my duty!”, Throgmorton protested. “I am convinced Jack Gillingham was killed by a vampire. These evil rodents are spreading like a plague!”  
Jonathan simply hummed his acknowledgement. “So, how exactly are you protecting these people? I’m curious.”  
“I patrol late at night, investigating anything unusual. I try and encourage people to stay indoors, but people are careless.”  
“But don’t you think it dangerous for yourself to be patrolling at this hour?”  
Throgmorton honored him with a curt laugh. “Of course, but as I said, it is my duty, Doctor Reid. Danger comes with the territory.”

“So, how do you identify a vampire?” Even to his own ears, he couldn’t quite keep the doubtfulness out of his words. He hoped the other man wouldn’t read it as patronization.  
“It’s simply, really”, Throgmorton prefaced, and soberly began to list, “they can’t stand daylight, they are afraid of garlic, and holy symbols. And they also cannot enter a house without being invited.”  
Jonathan couldn’t rightfully judge the true extent of his knowledge, but it sounded like dangerous sciolism, and he couldn’t help but worry the man was on the best path of getting himself killed.  
As far as Jonathan knew, he hadn’t even been able to spot him. All alone, in the middle of a foggy street, there would be little stopping him from leading the man away.  
Or risking to embrace him right here.  
“Have you ever – killed one of these creatures? Yourself, I mean?”  
“Of course, I have. What kind of question in that?” There was a slight chuckle to his voice, “It’s a dirty business, believe me.” Jonathan was not convinced.  
“Have you heard of the Guard of Priwen?”  
“Of course! Dedicated hunters, yet – a little militant, for my taste.” With a huff, he added, “but they _do_ let anyone join.”  
“Were you ever tempted to join the guard yourself?”  
“I have thought about it”, Throgmorton conceded. “But I am more of a silent hunter. They’re more of a sanitary militia.”  
Jonathan found it hard to disagree with this description. He was all to familiar with their methodical trawl through London’s streets; teamed up in groups of three and paired to complement each other.  
“So, you hunt alone? That sounds… risky.”  
“Vampires are just like any other predator. They hunt when they’re hungry and follow certain patterns.” He returned to solemnity, and Jonathan began to prefer his usually cheerful demeanor. “It’s just a matter of observation and patience.”

Jonathan kept to himself that similar could be said for humans.  
Instead, he hummed thoughtfully. “Well, Mister Throgmorton. I’m looking for Sean Hampton, can you help me?”  
His manner changed again, and the usual spring returned to his voice. “The Sad Saint? He should be at his night asylum at this hour… but I cannot tell you how to find it, sorry.”  
“Really? And why is that?”  
“It’s nothing personal doctor. I’m sure your intentions are good, but the people who sleep there… they have plenty of reasons to hide.”  
Jonathan nodded. He understood. “I respect your refusal. You really believe Sean is a Saint, don’t you?”  
“All I can say is this, all he has lived through – at the hands of a priest, no less – and it had only strengthened his faith. “

Jonathan considered his words for a moment. Considered their meaning, as he took in the man before him, and he chose not to pry any further.  
With a smile, he said “very well, then. Goodbye, Mister Throgmorton. And good hunting.”


	2. Chapter 2

A cold drizzle was the only movement disturbing the otherwise eerily still picture of another gloomy night at the docks. 

After the epidemic had ended, there were far less distant shrieks echoing through narrow alleys – or the accompanying sounds of yells and gunfire – whenever Ichabod’s patrols led him to the edges of abandoned districts. Of Priwen’s hunting grounds.   
The number of Skals (or ‘poor souls driven to madness by the flu’, as people deeming themselves sane had preferred to call them) had gone down immensely contemporaneously to the decline of infection, and it left Ichabod musing whether there could be an unidentified link between the two events. He might never learn the truth for sure.   
He certainly wasn’t sad about their vanishing, however. The city was safer for it, and god knew feral growls breaking the silence like nightly terrors were enough to send shivers down any mans spine. 

Nevertheless, the fear this catastrophe had instilled remained in the heart of London’s citizens, and there was no doubt the city would need time to heal. Especially at the docks, where the gangs had consolidated their hold in the past two years, it were still only the usual brave who dared go out by night.  
And because of that, Ichabod didn’t need long to identify the tall figure stepping out of the Turquoise Turtle at this ungodly hour. 

He couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face. His patrols didn’t always lead him this far away from the Night Shelter, but suddenly he was glad that tonight, it had. 

“Ah, Doctor Reid! Back at the Docks, I see?”, he greeted in his usual cheerful manner. The doctor, still in the movement of adjusting his hat against the rain, turned to him at the auditory interruption.   
“Mister Throgmorton, good evening to you too.”

Reid and he had been spending a considerable amount of time together after the tragedy that had occurred at the Night Shelter. The Sad Saint had gone mad, and before Ichabod could put the pieces together and interfere, he had already closed off the warehouse. Ichabod had failed his duty once again, and it cost the lives of too many good people who were only looking for their haven. As always, the most vulnerable had to take the brunt.   
In these trying times, the good doctor had helped him more than he could possibly know. Ichabod still remembered the incredulity in his voice the first time they talked, but nonetheless Reid had believed him when he recounted coming up against one of these creatures. He had believed him, and it had soothed some of Ichabod’s doubts; had made him believe perhaps he was more than the delusional maniac everyone else saw.   
And when Sean Hampton himself fell to his desire for flesh, Reid had helped him once again. Ichabod had done anything he could to support Miss Paxton as she took over and re-opened the shelter, but Reid had saved him from drowning in guilt simply by being there. They had had the most fascinating discussions about the human physiology, and how it might work after the transformation vampires had to live through. About what weaknesses were to be expected, that he could exploit during a confrontation, should the need arise. Reid had even offered to pose as his sparring partner – and the war had left the doctor surprisingly proficient at close quarter combat. 

Ichabod knew this behavior stemmed from genuine concern on Reid’s part, if only to prevent him being gutted by a vampire. He could tell every time the same concern crept into Reid’s voice when Ichabod announced to go hunting – after all, the man seemed to care about everyone, always trying to help.   
Still, and as good a company as Reid had always been, Ichabod had found himself growing to appreciate the other man’s presence even more.   
Which was something he grew increasingly aware of as he started to notice his absence. Doctor Reid hadn’t been down to the docks since the epidemic had ended.

At least, until now. 

“You are on patrol, I presume?”, Reid asked with a warm smile, the calm rumble of his voice all too familiar. The closer Ichabod had gotten, the clearer he could see that he seemed – tired, somehow.   
“Just finishing, actually. Tonight had been exceptionally quiet, not even Priwen is about.”   
Ichabod allowed himself a moment to take him in. A shadow under his eyes and the faintest hint of red – it wasn’t all too bad, mind you. Far from it. But it stood to contrast to the usually flawless appearance in an almost eerie way; it somehow felt out of place. “We haven’t met in a while, I hope I find you in good health?” 

Something in his smile shifted to amusement, then, in recognition what Ichabod was referring to. “Yes, thank you. I’m afraid the night shifts are simply starting to take their toll.”  
“And here I thought you were already nocturnal at this point!”, he interjected lightly. “Does the notion amuse you?”  
“Not at all. Truthfully, you aren’t the first to ask. Your inquiry was simply politer than some of the more colorful phrasings I heard.”  
“Ah, well, I would not want to pry.”  
Reid gave him a thoughtful hum. “Much obliged. Are you about to return to the Night Shelter? I was just on my way to finish my rounds there.”  
“Yes, I believe so. Would you care to accompany me?”   
“Gladly.”

With that, the two men fell into step next to each other.   
“I do apologize for my prolonged absence”, Doctor Reid started. “With the end of the epidemic, and the recent – change in administration at the Pembroke, the hospital required all of our full attention.”  
“There is no need for apologies, my good friend! I would not dare hold that against you.” He turned his gaze towards him just in time for their eyes to meet. “However, I wouldn’t have expected Doctor Swansea to resign.”  
“Priwen’s attack was quite a traumatic experience. Unfortunately, it seemed the better way”, Reid explained, genuine empathy in his voice. “But more importantly, how is the Night Asylum faring?”   
“Oh, Miss Paxton is doing an excellent job, but her older sister decided to join the Guard, after what happened to Sean. There is still some fallout from this tragedy, of course. All in all, however, I believe the shelter is finding back to its feet.”  
Reid nodded solemnly. The severity of the topic always seemed to be accompanied by a rather particular shade of regret, for both of them. He had fleetingly seen it in the other’s eyes after it happened, and a few times when the situation seemed especially bad still. At first, it had disappeared so fast, he couldn’t possibly have placed it, but eventually he had learned to recognize it.   
Ichabod understood it all to well, he had blamed himself for his failure to protect the people. As for the doctor, one would assume his regret to be compassion he feels, as everyone should in the face of tragedy – but Ichabod had started to wonder if something else might be involved.   
It was an uncanny thought, after all this was _Jonathan Reid_ he was talking about. He would never accuse him, out of all people, of ill intent. Yet the fact remained that Sean had come back somehow changed from the Pembroke. And the doctor had been the one to chase him down; the tragedy only occurred after he left. It was a string of rather unlikely coincidence, and it left him to wonder what the true story might be.   
Perhaps his regret stems from a feeling of responsibility, and there must be a reason for that. 

Perhaps Ichabod would someday find it in him to ask – this question, and many more. Yet after all, he wouldn’t want to pry.

“No need to fret, doctor!”, he exclaimed cheerfully, to lighten the mood. “London can look after herself, even if you can’t always extend a helping hand.”  
The other man gave him a soft smile. “There is no doubt about it. I simply wouldn’t want to neglect my patients.”  
With a hand on his wrist, he caused the doctor to stop. “You have already done more than most others, I promise you aren’t.”   
His tone might have been too serious for their lighthearted conversation, but this was something he wanted him to know, and he shan’t let him forget it. Not even in jest. If this was something the doctor needed to hear, he hoped dearly he would believe him.  
For a heartbeat, neither of them broke eye contact.   
“Of course. Thank you, Mister Throgmorton”, Reid said softly, the moment seeming all too fragile. 

And Ichabod remembered to withdraw his hand again. 

As they continued they filled the rest of their walk with idle chatter – about the improvement in the other districts, the re-opening of the park and the theater; whatever came to mind, really. Of course, Reid also inquired if he needed medical attention. It felt good to talk to him again.   
Until the imposing building of the old warehouse turned night shelter came into view.

“And what do you plan to do now?”, Doctor Reid asked.   
“Perhaps I won’t hunt tonight, and I have already finished my patrols”, he mused thoughtfully.   
“In that case, may I suggest to catch some sleep before dawn?”   
Ichabod couldn’t help a smirk. “Is that professional advice?”  
“Both professional, and friendly.”   
“Do as I say, not as I do?”, he couldn’t help but tease. It earned him a mild smile, but the twinkle of amusement in Reid’s eyes seemed to make it worth it. “At any rate, thank you for the conversation, doctor.”   
“Any time, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there is a lot of introspection, I know, and that's because I have to fill in the gaps between my game choices and where the plot of this fic begins (because I am trying to keep my canon-run choices for the sake of taking responsibility for my fuck ups, but i tweaked the consequences a lil and given that I'm not confined to a video game anymore, I also built in the ways I personally would have fixed them if only the game had given me an option to haha)  
> i know it's not ideal and it might be better if i actually wrote the missing scenes, but they wouldn't really fit into this specific story so meh, maybe i will make this a series and add in some ficlets and one-shots of the missing scenes, maybe not, we'll see how it goes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> aaaaaalso if you guys want you can hmu on tumblr to nerd out about vampyr together, my art/writing blog is find-me-kindness-beauty-truth.tumblr.com ! :)
> 
> aaaalso also, i can't make any promises but you can probably expect the next chapters to be longer. usually the stuff i write is about 4k words per chapter and i will certainly aim for that in the future, even if there are some outliers like this one :D

**Author's Note:**

> here i go again, shipping the most obscure niche pairings, oh woe is me!  
> i know this prologue is straight up a retelling of their meeting in game and not much in way of new dialogue yet (even though i tried to expand the thoughts surrounding it and not straight up copy everything), and given that it's a prologue, it is shorter than future chapter will probably be, but it serves more to set the mood of the vampyr atmosphere, i guess, haha  
> anyhoo, this won't really have a set schedule since i also focus on a bigger project i am currently writing for the witcher fandom rn, but in general the wait between the chapters shouldn't be too long, even if it occasionally may take me a while  
> i do hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> p.s.: "the bloodsuckers exist, and they're close" - closer than you might think, my dear!


End file.
